


Switchblade

by lunarmoonchild (bobaheadshark)



Category: Raya and the Last Dragon (2021)
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Childhood friends to rivals to enemies implied, Drabble, Extremely speculative and I wrote this based on the trailer that was it, F/F, Fella is it gay if I crush my crush in a snow-covered forest but really it's to protect her, Femslash February, Femslash February 2021, International Fanworks Day 2021, Knife fighting in a forest, Lesbian Character of Color, Pre-Canon, SAPPHICS RISE, Short One Shot, That's my headcanon I stand by it, Two Actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:26:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29024934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobaheadshark/pseuds/lunarmoonchild
Summary: “The gem is mine.” Namaari says.“So come here, and take it.”----Guys. The trailer. Lesbian girlfriendism. Let's GOOOOOO
Relationships: Raya/Namaari (Disney)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 156





	Switchblade

**Author's Note:**

> Uh yeah 24 hours ago I saw the trailer and then I wrote this in one hour at midnight so like, please enjoy some lil sapphic vibes and ANYWAYS, i ship it.
> 
> Thanks to [Lepak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lepak/pseuds/Lepak) for the super quick once over.

* * *

_Electric rivers flow by the silhouette trees_  
_And I'm feeling brave_  
_The winds of change have nothing on this switchblade faith_

\---

They meet across the silver of their staff and sword. Snow flying. Breaths puffed in the icy winter air.

Raya digs her heels into the frost-covered ground. “You’ve grown slower,” she grits out. 

“And you, a whippersnapper as you ever were.” 

“Half a year’s not much of a head start.”

“Perhaps. But you always favoured that right side of yours.” 

One twist and a parry, and Raya feels it. Pain radiating out of her ribcage where Namaari’s staff has struck true. A bruise she knows will bloom in the days to come. No matter, nothing a pumice and a herbal press won’t fix.

Raya will have to instruct Tuk-Tuk to forage harder, soon. The spring harvest is not as it once was. 

The fight is as it always was. Namaari’s fists flying, close to Raya’s face. A graceful dodge, a well-timed skip. Choreography writ in violence. 

  
Raya remembers when they fought together, as children. Two daughters of chosen tribes, pitted and compared relentlessly against the other. Encouraged to hit where it hurt. 

And yet, tentative friendship. Made and remade over rice dumplings and paper lanterns and stone-skimming on rivers. Finding companionship, away from the ever-turning wheel of parental expectations. 

Until the call. 

Dragon seekers, when only one would answer. 

_How did we go this way?_ Raya wonders. But just as quickly, she cries out, for Namaari raises her staff and seizes the advantage.

“The gem is mine.” Namaari says.

“So come here, and take it.” 

Blood drips from Raya’s forehead, crimson on snow. In Raya’s imagination, they look like petals. 

But since Ba has gone, she has never had much time to dream, let alone to think of what she’s wanted.

Raya looks up at Namaari. Searching for a sign of the girl that used to best her in the ring, of the friend who waited for her after practice to walk home together. 

(Not that Raya is counting wins and losses, of course.) 

The only thing visible on Namaari’s face now is contempt, clear as day. But the flicker of her eyes gives her away.

The trees whisper in the wind, forest shivering around them.

  
“You can’t hide from me.”

“That may be true, Maari.” Raya says, smiling. “But that’s your problem. You always never looked before you jumped.”  
  


A flick of a wrist, and Raya’s got it. A branch – behind them, weighted with snow – loosens itself from the tree. It arcs through the air towards them both. Namaari springs from her place to avoid the hit.

It happens in a blink of an eye. One minute, the smell of cedar and frost. The next, the scent of clove and woodsmoke. Namaari’s body is over hers, her arms caged protectively around Raya’s own. Raya stares into the widened brown eyes of her former friend. 

“You tried to hurt me.” Namaari says, mildly surprised.

“You wanted the gem. It isn’t yours to take.”

Namaari’s eyes flicker across Raya’s features, and land near her jawbone. 

Raya gulps. 

“ _You’re_ not hurt.” Namaari continues.

“And you’re still alive. True what they say about the leopard-folk, huh. Nine lives. Did you find your sense of empathy in your newest one?”

“Perhaps you would do well to refine your spellwork, in the next life of yours.”

“Aw. Missed me?”

Namaari doesn’t answer that one. 

For a while, there’s just the rise and fall of their chests against each other's. Namaari’s knees slung around Raya’s hips. And Raya is not sure why she does it, but she reaches out with her uninjured hand, and tucks a strand of Namaari’s hair behind her ear. 

“Master Lin always did say you never showed up to practice with your uniform clean,” Raya says, drily. 

"There was never much point, if we were going to leave each other in the dust."

  
And Raya almost smiles.  
  


Then, the earth. Shaking. 

Both of them tear their eyes away from the other, and look towards the North. 

“The volcano.” Namaari adds.

“You should maybe, go get that?”

Namaari pushes herself up and dusts the snow from her trousers. 

  
And Raya remembers. How her training partner always ran warm. 

  
Raya calculates. She knows that her wards won’t work this far North, and she thinks already of the coast. How much time this detour has cost her, how the pull will weaken the further up the mountain she goes.

_Father._

And Namaari has already moved to the edge of the clearing, looking beyond. They stand shoulder to shoulder for a moment. Orange seeping through the leaves – no summer, but the unnatural glow of flame, from the old mountain, now angry and awake. 

Raya thinks that Namaari has always carried the burden of their namesakes more gracefully than she has. That Namaari had always been the stronger one, but the venom of power and conquest was one she could not rinse from her character. How domination has always been in her nature, and she has let it consume her.

Once, Namaari’s hands had been soft. Like hers. Before the callouses, before they were soldiers.

“This isn’t over.” Raya says, not looking at her.

“No. I will get that gem.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Hazel eyes, meeting in a snow-covered forest.

“Oh, Raya. You have no idea how much I look forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Switchblade](https://open.spotify.com/track/7b6z03ctOD39o4Cez0wr0X?si=F3R6nudHRGG2AiMnOGNCHQ) is by Niki who is also Southeast Asian and extremely mood???
> 
> Kudos and comments always appreciated!
> 
> I'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/bobaheadshark) and I am a gargantuan Reylo, tho I occasionally yell about pop culture things and am trying to get into this multishipping business. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
